


en pointe

by gaynoorasaetre



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Bi Eva, F/F, everyone is gay in the background, lesbian noora, prima ballerina noora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaynoorasaetre/pseuds/gaynoorasaetre
Summary: noora is the prima ballerina of the oslo ballet. eva is a dance student forced to attend the ballet as a class field trip. when she sees noora dance, she finally understands what makes ballet so beautiful.





	en pointe

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic!! i wanted to write a nooreva ballet au bc i love nooreva and ballet. also spoilers but my dream is hjernen er alene but with nooreva so enjoy that
> 
> i'm @ lesbiannooras.tumblr.com :)

Eva didn’t know why she had chosen to take a class about performing arts, she didn’t know why she was being forced to attend the ballet, and she didn’t know why she was sitting in a dark auditorium at the Oslo Opera House, having a visceral reaction, completely transfixed.

Eva had complained to Vilde the entire way to the theater. Why do they need us to see a ballet? Don’t we do enough of that in class? Are they trying to make us feel inadequate by comparison? Vilde had told Eva to stop complaining, that they were there for a little culture, the same reason they were taking the class. Eva had rolled her eyes. But, now, she understood.

As she watched the prima ballerina, an elegant blonde wearing bright red lipstick, she understood. She got lost in the dancer’s movements; the way her muscles moved as she went from one move to the next, the way her fouettés showed off both an incredible grace and incredible strength, the way her every pose told a story. Eva watched as the corps de ballet moved in unison around the prima ballerina, constructing a lovely ebb and flow that only served to highlight the prima even more. Eva couldn’t help but notice her face; full lips, blue eyes, pale skin, minimal eye makeup to offset her bright lipstick. She was completely gorgeous. With the music playing a soft, sad melody and the dancers flowing from one movement to the next, Eva could swear she was having a physical reaction. She could cry right there. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off the prima.

After an amount of time that Eva couldn’t say, the curtains went down and the lights came up. She suddenly felt silly for having such an emotional reaction, but she looked over at Vilde, who was wiping tears from her face. “That was beautiful,” she said.

“It was alright,” said Eva.

It was then that her teacher announced they were going backstage to meet some of the cast. Eva’s heart was pounding as she walked with the rest of her classmates to the dancers’ dressing room. Her teacher, Silje, was chattering away about the prima ballerina. Her name was Noora Sætre, she was 19, she began at a ballet company in Madrid, and recently moved to Oslo to be the Norwegian National Opera’s prima ballerina.  
Eva tried to calm herself as she walked into the dancers’ dressing room. She walked past the other beautiful ballerinas on her way to a smaller, private room where the prima would be. Her performing arts class was small, only about ten people, and Eva snuck a glance at the prima, Noora, as she crowded into the room, quickly averting her gaze when she realized Noora was looking back at her.

“Hello!” said Noora cheerily, “Noora,” she said as she shook hands with every member of the class, ending with Eva. Eva could barely dare to look at her face when only moments before, she was analyzing her body’s every movement, practically ready to declare her love for her. Apparently I’m really into ballet, Eva thought to herself. She couldn’t remember having quite such an emotional reaction to any other piece of art.

“So, what did you guys think of the piece?” Noora asked the class.

“The costumes were amazing!” said Vilde, and Noora smiled at her.

“The choreography was amazing,” began one of her classmates, who proceeded to blabber on about the way the corps de ballet worked together to create a gentle, but still incredibly strong sense of sadness, or whatever, Eva wasn’t really listening. She was looking at Noora, watching as she listened to her classmate intently, smiling and nodding at appropriate times. As her classmates shared what they liked about the piece, Eva studied Noora’s face, asking herself how it could be possible that she could be even more lovely up close. Her lips were so red, her hair was so white, her face was so expressive, her eyes were so--

It was then that Eva realized Noora’s eyes were on her. She was looking right at her, talking to her, asking what she thought.

“Oh, um...” Eva struggled for something to say. “Music. The music.” Noora looked at her questioningly. “It worked so well with the choreography. Everything flowed together so well. Is it an original piece?”

“Yes, actually,” said Noora, smiling kindly at Eva. “It was composed just for this ballet. It’s a modern take on a classic film. Jacques Demy’s Donkey Skin. Have any of you seen it?”

Eva zoned out during the rest of the conversation. She focused on Noora’s hair, her eyes, her lips...

“Eva,” suddenly Vilde was nudging her. “What are you doing? We’re leaving.”

“Oh...” said Eva. She spared one last glance at Noora, only to find she was looking right at her.

“See you around,” said Noora with a smile.

.

It was the next day, but Noora was still reeling from her chance encounter with the pretty brunette from yesterday’s performance. She was still thinking about her red-brown hair, the way it cascaded down her back in gentle waves; her blue-green eyes, the way they focused right on her...

But, no. Noora would probably never see her again. There’s no use in focusing on her, you don’t even know if she likes girls even if there was a chance of seeing her again. Noora silently chastised herself for wanting more.

Noora was pretty secure in her sexuality. Madrid was one of the gayest cities in the world, and it’s where she came to terms with the fact that she was a lesbian. Now that she was back in Oslo, she was living with Eskild and Linn, whose open gayness inspired even her. Noora often thought of herself as one of the biggest lesbians she knows, but then Linn would come home with a bouquet of violets and a book of Sappho’s poetry and Noora almost felt straight in comparison. She loved it; her roommates inspired her to be gayer every day.

Noora put on her denim jacket with the “lavender menace” pin and headed out. 

“You look nice! Where are you going?” asked Eskild from the couch as she made her way to the door.  
“Just to practice,” Noora said.

“How was yesterday’s performance? Did you kill it?” he smiled. 

“It was fine.” Noora tried to act nonchalant but could feel a smile creeping over her lips.  
Eskild gasped.

“Oh my god! What is it? Did you meet a girl?”

“Eskild--” Noora tried to stop his train of thought in its tracks. But it was too late; Eskild was practically jumping up and down.  
“Oh my god! What’s her name? Do I know her?”

“I’m probably never going to see her again, okay?”

Eskild ignored this. “My lesbian daughter is in love!”

“Bye, Eskild!” 

Noora left before he could say anymore. 

Noora took the bus every day to Rådhuset before walking to the theater. Since she was early for practice that day, she thought she would walk around Aker Brygge for a little while. She was about to walk into the Stockfleths next to the Nobel Peace Center when someone bumped into her.

“Oh, sorry,” she said as she looked up, right into blue-green eyes. It was Eva, the girl from the other night. “Oh... hi. Eva, right?” she tried to act casual.

“Noora,” said Eva with her beautifully thick Bergen accent. Noora could listen to her saying her name forever.

“How are you? Um... were you leaving?” she gestured at Eva’s to-go cup.

“Yes, but...”

“Did you want to--”

“Sure!” Eva smiled warmly. “But, were you going somewhere?”

Noora looked down at her bag, emblazoned with the Norwegian Opera’s logo on it. She was clearly on her way to ballet practice. She considered blowing it off, but...

“You probably shouldn’t be late, since you’re the prima.” Eva laughed.

“No, I have to get going. But, hey, let me see your phone.”

“Uh, why?”

“So I can put my number into it,” she said, with more confidence than she felt.

Her eyes were on Eva’s lips as they curled into a bright smile. She handed Noora her phone, and she typed her number into it. She set her name as “Noora”, with a dancer emoji. Eva smiled as she took her phone back.

“See you around?” asked Noora as she began to walk away.

 

Last night had been one of their first performances, so they still had some things they had to polish up. She and her fellow dancers were doing barre exercises as their teacher instructed them. Noora couldn’t help but zone out as she thought about red-brown hair, blue-green eyes, a soft smile...

.

Eva stared at the new contact in her phone: Noora, with a dancer emoji. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant. Did she give out her number to a lot of dance students? Maybe she gave her number to Eva out of the goodness of her heart, out of philanthropy. Maybe she liked to help out hopeless young dancers like Eva. Or maybe it could mean more?

Eva came out as bi during her first year of high school; after she broke up with Jonas and started dating Iben, another bi girl. Even though her relationship with Iben ultimately hadn’t lasted, she learned a lot from her. She learned what it meant to be bi, what a rich history LGBT women and bi women specifically had; the sort of resilience and openness that came with being bi. During the course of high school, her friend group slowly came out, one after the other. Chris came out as pan, Sana came out as bi, and Vilde came out as a lesbian. She was incredibly fond of her gay squad, even though the will-they-or-won’t-they dynamic between Chris and Vilde created a palpable tension in the group; and Sana openly pined after Jamilla, whom she had loved for years. 

She had dated boys and girls all throughout high school, but none had captured her heart quite as quickly or as vividly as Noora, the prima ballerina with a penchant for red lipstick and denim jackets. Eva hadn’t missed the “lavender menace” pin on Noora’s jacket; was she gay? Or was she one of those straight girls who appropriate lesbian fashion? Eva wanted to find out.

She labored over the text for what seemed like hours. She needed something light, breezy, a little flirty but not overtly so. 

To: Noora: Hey! How was practice? Do you have a show tonight?

Eva hit send and threw her phone across the room. What if Noora didn’t reply? Or, worse, what if she did? But she didn’t have to stew in anxiety for very long before hearing her phone vibrate from where it had landed on the bed.

From: Noora: Yes, but not until later. What did you have in mind?

They ended up going to the National Gallery. Noora showed up looking straight out of a painting, her short blonde hair curled into beautiful waves, her bright lipstick highlighting her full lips. Eva thought she might die on the spot. 

Noora led Eva through the rooms hurriedly, saying she wanted to show Eva her favorite painting. They ended up in a room painted dark blue, the writing on the wall containing a biography of Edvard Munch. Eva’s eyes found the painting everyone in the room was crowded around, The Scream.

“The Scream is your favorite painting? Isn’t that a little cliché?” Eva teased.

“No, it’s what’s hanging next to The Scream.”

Noora led them to a painting of a woman with dark hair and a red halo. “Madonna.” said Noora. Eva looked from the painting to Noora, who was gazing at it with reverence. 

“It’s beautiful,” remarked Eva, her eyes still on Noora.

“It is,” replied Noora, turning to Eva, their eyes falling on each other’s lips.

They stared at each other for several moments before Eva turned back to the painting abruptly.

“Its use of, um, color...” Eva tried to sound like she was talking about, which was difficult because she didn’t, “is, uh, interesting.”

“It’s a really unique representation. It creates a sense of calmness, but, at the same time, sensuality.”

Eva looked at Noora, nodding. “She’s hot,” was all Eva could offer. Noora laughed brightly.

The afternoon ended with Noora walking Eva to the metro station, while inviting her to the following evening’s performance. Eva, like the useless bi she was, said yes without hesitation. Noora smiled, said she had a nice time, and left Eva gazing after her as she walked away.

.

Noora was a pathetic lesbian when she was in love. Her every thought now seemed to be of Eva. As she was making pasta she wondered, does Eva like pasta? As she walked to the Opera House that evening, she wondered if Eva was there yet. As she waited for her cue backstage, she wondered where Eva was sitting.

After each performance, she could feel the adrenaline. There was nothing quite like performing ballet in Noora’s mind. It gives you a sort of rush, it made Noora’s heart beat and her head race. It made her feel like she was at the top of the world. So, when she went to her dressing room only to find Eva waiting there with a bouquet, she closed the door shut and kissed her.

Eva dropped the bouquet, her hands ending up in Noora’s hair. The kiss was slow at first, gaining in fervency as Noora pulled Eva closer to her. They kissed like they had been wanting to forever. After several minutes, Noora managed to pull herself away, kissing Eva’s jaw gently.

The two girls looked at each other and smiled. Noora’s lipstick was all over Eva’s mouth, and Noora’s lipstick was surely smudged. Noora laughed and tried to wipe the lipstick off of Eva’s mouth and jaw.

“It’s okay, I have makeup wipes,” said Noora, and they both laughed. 

They ended up cuddled in Noora’s bed at the kollektiv. They were both wearing Noora’s t-shirts and hoodies, and Eva was cuddled up at Noora’s side. They lay there, exchanging soft kisses and chatting about whatever.

“How did you know you were gay?” asked Eva.

“I’ve always lived for women and I’ve never cared about men. All men have ever brought me is trauma and disappointment, but women fill my life with light and joy.”

Noora gazed into Eva’s eyes as she talked. It was a relief to be able to stare at her openly. As Eva lay there staring right back up at Noora, Noora thought she could stay like this forever.

Noora ran her fingers through Eva’s hair.

“Shall we stay like this forever?”

Eva nodded, leaning up for a kiss.


End file.
